When Noah was in second grade, his teacher helped us introduce the metaphor of buckets to him. Acts of kindness, giving and sharing fill the buckets of others while doing mean things dips into those buckets. We got the kid's book, the workbook and I even created a "cup of kindness" at home to reinforce the concept. Each day we would talk about the buckets of those around us. And, that by filling the buckets of others, then we also filled our own buckets. The real lesson is how to be happy and the impact of positive behaviors on our emotional health.
It is not a complicated paradigm. And I am wired to fill buckets. It is when I am most happy. It is my calling.
However.
I just cannot seem to consistently maintain a trajectory of filling buckets including my own bucket. I try really hard. But clearly I am doing something wrong because I get whacked down allot. Is it life or is it me? Or some of both?
I intellectually get that it is a mind frame. I do the self talk and create the narrative in my head. I take action. I get on a roll. I put in the right support systems. I am honest and transparent.
And then I am bulldozed back.
The despair of the up and down, the up and down, the down. The defeated feeling. And the wonderful moments mixed throughout too.
And the minutes are passing me by. The finite time I have with Tom. The finite time before my youngest child leaves home.
And knowing there is this person who just wants to fill buckets. Lost.
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Despair by Dominique Landau |
